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there's nothing quite like being rudely woken by a cat - that sort of shadow you wish you had to steer off the incubus...      only the ugliest of the norse founded kiev...       i wonder, as i manage to peck a spider off the corner of my room, drink, then eat it, and subsequently imitate regurgitation, upon having eaten body, and then finding the legs, these twisting, coiling artefacts of some sort of disembodiment...   i really was planning to drink this whiskey in the afternoon, then the rudeness of the cat waking me,               then the rage against the machine and the idea of a buddhist, and then the voice, that would never amount to the said theatric of burn ****** burn...          i can't compete being drunk and it only being nearing 7 a.m.,        i can only cite:   paper boy took the day off.                         and i lost count to every counted sunday, thinking it a monday; and that's a half of a hey-yah! thong     bridget huan jonson jerking off the next nesting jose johnson, calling him enrique joe.                      or: amazon god king conquistador it's sunrise you ******** people have to "work", yeah, they "work", they're rhetoricians!              they're the embodiment of what's spectacular about western society...           high brow romancing of       the averted moral spectrum, like i really did begin to start ******* cockroaches... and these women were my sunrise...     keep the gangrenes, the ******* the abbies...   i love that term, it's like reviving: greengrocer...         like calling a pet donkey a chihuahua and then for asking oral *** calling it a sloppy-jappy...       as if it was aimed as sushi shooting the raw argument. hence the love of h'america... no, i never admire or fashion the idea of americans waking up i the globalist part of new york, that's gobalist, and the 24h oops... oh wait, you didn't realise we were insomniac?! fucl me... afternoon for them is like pretending breakfast for the rest of us...         i think the dieticians call it fibre, or something twice as hard to digest, twice as hard to constipate out on, and thrice the name of a wife. i really love they didn't catch up on the insult: it's a bit like eating humus, or catching the sunset.
0
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
eating spiders
there's nothing quite like being rudely woken by a cat - that sort of shadow you wish you had to steer off the incubus...      only the ugliest of the norse founded kiev...       i wonder, as i manage to peck a spider off the corner of my room, drink, then eat it, and subsequently imitate regurgitation, upon having eaten body, and then finding the legs, these twisting, coiling artefacts of some sort of disembodiment...   i really was planning to drink this whiskey in the afternoon, then the rudeness of the cat waking me,               then the rage against the machine and the idea of a buddhist, and then the voice, that would never amount to the said theatric of burn ****** burn...          i can't compete being drunk and it only being nearing 7 a.m.,        i can only cite:   paper boy took the day off.                         and i lost count to every counted sunday, thinking it a monday; and that's a half of a hey-yah! thong     bridget huan jonson jerking off the next nesting jose johnson, calling him enrique joe.                      or: amazon god king conquistador it's sunrise you ******** people have to "work", yeah, they "work", they're rhetoricians!              they're the embodiment of what's spectacular about western society...           high brow romancing of       the averted moral spectrum, like i really did begin to start ******* cockroaches... and these women were my sunrise...     keep the gangrenes, the ******* the abbies...   i love that term, it's like reviving: greengrocer...         like calling a pet donkey a chihuahua and then for asking oral *** calling it a sloppy-jappy...       as if it was aimed as sushi shooting the raw argument. hence the love of h'america... no, i never admire or fashion the idea of americans waking up i the globalist part of new york, that's gobalist, and the 24h oops... oh wait, you didn't realise we were insomniac?! fucl me... afternoon for them is like pretending breakfast for the rest of us...         i think the dieticians call it fibre, or something twice as hard to digest, twice as hard to constipate out on, and thrice the name of a wife. i really love they didn't catch up on the insult: it's a bit like eating humus, or catching the sunset.
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removed.polaroid-scrabble
36/M
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
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